by Elle James
“Thank you, Lily.” Rosalynn took the glass of tea and a cookie and waited for Lily to settle beside her.
“You’ve been working here for over a year, but you never talked about what happened between you and Trace.” Rosalynn took a bite of the cookie and pinned Lily with a curious stare.
Lily took a sip of her tea and swallowed hard before she met Trace’s mother’s gaze. “It didn’t work out.”
“Was it because of the big argument he had with his father? You knew about it, didn’t you?” Rosalynn sighed. “James wanted the best for his son.”
“And I wasn’t the best,” Lily added.
“It wasn’t until you came to work for us that James got to know you. He regretted what he’d said to our son. On more than one occasion, he told me he wished Trace had married you. You would have been good for him.”
“Your husband was right. Trace was going into the military. If I’d stayed with him, his association with me and my family could have hindered him getting the security clearance he needed.”
“So you let him go without you,” Rosalynn said.
Lily bent her head for a moment and then looked up again, her chest tight. “I told him I was in love with someone else. When he asked who, the only person I could think of was the guy with the worst reputation in the community at that time.”
“Oh, dear Lord.” Rosalynn’s eyes widened. “Was that someone else Matt Hennessey?”
Lily nodded.
“Matt Hennessey, the man who stole you from him and now has stolen half his legacy.” Rosalynn smacked her hand to her forehead. “No wonder he was so angry at the law office.”
“Trace never forgave me for telling him that I was in love with another man,” Lily said. “I can’t blame him. I’m sure my announcement came to him out of left field. I had to do something to make sure he left and there wasn’t a reason for the people who performed the background checks to come looking for me or my family. He didn’t need to have any strikes against him when he entered the military. I’m not certain how closely they would have checked into his friends and acquaintances, but having a girlfriend from my background wouldn’t have helped him in the least.”
“You’re not responsible for your family’s actions.”
“I know that, but no one else seems to take that into account.” Lily shrugged. “Guilt by association. I don’t have to tell you. Everyone in the county knows that my father is in jail. My mother has a questionable occupation and has been in and out of jail herself.”
“You’re a good person, Lily. Anyone who gets close to you knows that,” Rosalynn said. “Trace knows that, deep down. He’ll figure it out.”
Lily shook her head. “It’s okay. After eleven years, I’ve gotten over him. We were young and stupid. Trace has his life now and I have mine.”
“But you two were meant for each other,” Trace’s mother said.
“Don’t,” Lily said. “We’re over each other. That was a long time ago. We have more important things to worry about right now. I’d appreciate if you didn’t talk with Trace about our past. We’re on different paths now.”
“You’re living under the same roof,” Rosalynn pointed out.
Lily gave her a tight smile. “That’s just logistics, not love.”
“Oh, but life is too short,” Rosalynn said, her eyes filling with tears. “You have to grab for the joy and hold on to it for as long as you can.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, I’m going to see what we can thaw out for dinner.” Lily hurried out of the living room before Rosalynn noticed the tears in her own eyes. There had been a time when she’d been filled with the joy of love and laughter. When she and Trace had been young and head over heels in love.
Eleven years was long enough to forget how good they’d had it, wasn’t it?
Chapter Nine
When Trace drove the first tractor out of the shed he noticed a wet black spot in the dirt where the vehicle had been parked.
“Something’s leaking,” he said as he dropped down from the enclosed cab.
“I’m pretty good with engines,” Matt said. “Let me take a look.”
Trace stiffened. He’d worked on tractor engines from the time he was tall enough to reach the hood. Granted, the tractor he was looking at was a newer model than what he’d worked on in his youth, and it had been eleven years since he’d tinkered with engines. But he just wasn’t ready to let Matt into his world. If he ever would be ready. “I’ll check it.”
After a few minutes and banging his knuckles a couple times, he realized it would take him a lot longer to figure out the engine and all its components. Because he didn’t have time to call in a mechanic, and they really needed to get that hay cut, Trace knew he had to step aside and let Matt take over. It grated on his nerves and he ground his teeth. Short of waiting a day or two for a mechanic, he had to let go of this one thing.
He straightened and turned to Matt, who leaned against the barn, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrow cocked.
“I don’t have time for this. If you think you can fix it, have at it.” He stepped aside.
Matt didn’t move from his relaxed position. “Say please.”
It took every bit of his limited restraint to keep from punching the bastard in his smug face. “Please,” Trace gritted out.
With the hint of a cocky grin, Matt pushed away from the side of the barn. Within minutes, he had parts pulled loose or pushed aside.
Trace hoped the man wasn’t making it worse.
“Give me a radio, computer or weapons, and I can disassemble and reassemble in a heartbeat,” Irish said. “Vehicle engines? Not so much. I left those to the mechanics in the motor pool.”
Matt worked silently, retrieved a small tool kit from the storage compartment on his bike, twisted something, tapped something and reassembled the parts. After returning his tools to his bike, he faced Irish and Trace. “Should be good to go.”
Trace climbed aboard the tractor and fired up the engine. One explosive backfire and the engine hummed to life. He pulled forward a few feet, stopped, set the brake and climbed down. Nothing dripped to the earth below.
He didn’t want to feel anything toward the half brother who’d stolen his girl and half his legacy. But Trace’s sense of fairness overruled his desire to strike out at the man. “Thanks.”
“I’ll get the other tractor out while you attach whatever implement you need,” Matt said.
Trace’s inclination was to tell Matt he didn’t need the help, but he did, and refusing it would only be petty and childish. Instead, he nodded.
“The sooner we get the hay cut, the sooner it will dry and we can bale.” He attached the mower to the three-point hitch of the first tractor.
Matt entered the shed and a few minutes later had the second, smaller tractor out. This one didn’t have the air-conditioned cab like the first. He checked the oil, hoses and tires. Trace helped Matt attach another mower to the second tractor. After they filled the tanks, they parked the tractors near the gate to the field that needed to be cut.
Trace returned to Irish, who waited in front of the barn. “Got another tractor?” he asked.
“No. I have a more important job for you while we’re mowing.” Trace entered the shed one more time. His father kept two four-wheelers inside. He found only one. Had his father gotten rid of the other? As soon as the thought surfaced, Trace shook his head. The man never threw away anything. He’d keep it for spare parts before he let it go. He’d ask Roy about it when the man came back to work. In the meantime, he started the remaining four-wheeler and drove it out of the shed. “Get your rifle,” Trace said to Irish. “We need you to cover us while we’re mowing.”
Irish grinned. “Finally, something I can do until my stitches heal.” He hurried back to his vehicle and laid out a case. Inside the case was an AR-15, much lik
e the M4 Carbine rifle they’d used in Afghanistan. He loaded it with a thirty-round magazine of bullets and shoved a couple more magazines into the pockets of a vest. He strapped on a shoulder holster, tucked a Glock into the holster and slipped the vest over it. When he turned, he grinned. “Ready.”
“I’ve never been that ammoed up to ride out on the ranch,” Trace said, his gut twisting.
Irish frowned. “Too much?”
Trace raised his hand with a grin. “No way. I’m not complaining. I guess it’s a sign of the times.”
“I don’t know what’s been going on around here, but I learned in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan you can never carry too much ammo.” Irish climbed aboard the ATV, revved the engine and followed the two men through the gate, closing it behind them.
The field to be mowed was thirty acres of tall grass the cattle and horses had not been allowed to graze.
Trace and Matt started at the same end of the field, Trace making the first row and Matt holding back long enough to start the second row. They worked closely together that afternoon to make it easier to provide protection for both of them.
Irish rode the four-wheeler around the perimeter of the field and then set up a position where he could keep an eye on both men driving the tractors, while watching the wooded area bordering the southern end of the field.
Mowing was hot and dusty. Trace tied a bandanna over his mouth and nose and forged ahead. Even inside the cab of the larger tractor, he was inundated with fine particles of dirt. The time Trace spent on the tractor gave him plenty of opportunity to ruminate on what the attorney and his mother had said about Matt being his half brother and the stipulations of their combined inheritance. The angry man inside of him made him want to sell the ranch to keep Matt from getting any portion of the Travis lands. Hadn’t the man taken enough from him?
First he’d taken Lily, now his family’s legacy.
But was it Matt’s fault their father felt so guilty that he wanted to make amends for never having spent time with his first son? Hell, James Travis could have decided to leave it all to Matt. Even if he didn’t raise him, he was his firstborn.
Dust rose as they cut the hay, making the Texas sunshine hazy and hard to see through. When they’d made it halfway through the mowing, Trace parked his tractor at one end of the field and waited for Matt to catch up.
After turning off his tractor, Matt asked, “Is there a problem?”
“Thought we’d let the engines cool while we get a drink and have lunch.”
“I don’t need a break, if you want to push through and get it done,” Matt said.
“We’re making good progress,” Trace said. “It won’t hurt to break for fifteen minutes and give the tractors time to cool off and us a chance to recharge.”
Matt dropped down off his machine and stretched.
Irish rode up on the four-wheeler. “Is it lunchtime?”
Trace frowned. “Takes too much time to go back to the house. I thought we’d just take a break and get back to it.”
“We don’t have to go back to the house.” Irish grinned. “I have lunch in the storage container.”
“When did you get that?” Trace asked.
“Lily handed me a basket before we left. I’m not sure what she packed in here.” He opened the plastic container and extracted the basket. One at a time, he pulled out neatly wrapped sandwiches.
Trace’s heart swelled. Even when she wasn’t with them, she was thinking of the men working on the ranch.
Matt bit into one of the sandwiches, chewed and swallowed. “I need to marry that girl. She’s a keeper.”
Trace’s hand froze halfway to his mouth. His blood boiled. He tried but failed to keep his anger under control. “Are you kidding me? You had your chance and blew it.”
Matt jerked back as if Trace had hit him. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” Trace advanced on Matt. “You were supposed to marry Lily, and you dumped her.”
“Back off, Travis. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just mad because our father didn’t leave you his entire estate.”
“I couldn’t care less if my father gave you all of this ranch. You still did Lily wrong, and I won’t let you break her heart a second time.”
“I don’t know why you think I broke her heart. I don’t love Lily like that.”
“Well, she sure as hell was in love with you.”
“You’re insane,” Matt said.
“Uh, Trace,” Irish interrupted, “this argument isn’t getting the work done.”
Trace ignored his friend and stood toe to toe with Matt Hennessey. “You’re my father’s bastard son bent on stealing from me and my family.” Trace punched Matt in the gut.
Matt swung for Trace’s face, his knuckles connecting with Trace’s jaw.
Trace staggered backward, regained his balance and charged toward Matt.
The crack of gunfire split the air and a puff of dust exploded at Trace’s feet. Immediately, Trace, Matt and Irish dropped to the ground.
Irish came up in a prone shooting position and aimed into the woods.
Trace rolled beneath the tractor, pulled his Glock from the holster on his hip and studied the woods.
An engine rumbled somewhere in the trees and underbrush. An ATV took off through the shadows, headed away from where the men lay in the dirt.
Trace leaped to his feet and ran for the four-wheeler, hopped aboard and raced after the departing rider. He lurched across the field and into the woods, dodging trees and underbrush.
For a moment, he thought he’d lost the ATV in front of him. Then a flash in the shadows caught his attention. He yanked the handlebars to the left and hit the accelerator, careening through the woods. In an effort to cut off the guy in front of him, he swerved to the right, then dived into a ditch and back up the other side, veering in front of the other ATV.
The driver jerked his handlebars to the right, on a collision course to slam into Trace.
With little time to react, Trace pulled hard to the right, narrowly missed a tree, dipped down into a ditch and slammed the four-wheeler into a fallen log.
When the ATV stopped so suddenly, Trace flew over the handlebars, flipped in midair and landed hard on his back. With the wind knocked from his lungs, he lay still, unable to move for the next several seconds.
The roar of the ATV engine waned and then roared as the rider circled around and came full tilt at Trace.
Trace was just getting to his knees when the ATV stopped just short of him. The driver leveled a sawed-off shotgun, aiming at Trace’s chest.
A shot rang out.
Too late to move, Trace held his breath and braced for the hit and the pain.
When nothing happened, he looked down at his chest, fully expecting to see blood.
Nothing.
He dropped low to the ground, his gaze shifting back to the shooter.
The man on the ATV jerked backward, dropping the sawed-off shotgun across his legs. Clutching his shoulder with one hand, he turned the ATV and drove into the woods, disappearing into the shadows.
“What the—” Trace spun and looked back the way he’d come.
A silhouette of a man stood in the woods, a rifle pressed to his shoulder. When the man lowered it, Trace could see that it was Matt.
The man who’d stolen his girl and half of his inheritance had just saved his life.
* * *
LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Lily stood on the back porch, shading her eyes as she peered into the setting sun.
The men had yet to return from the hayfield, which shouldn’t have taken them all afternoon to cut. What was keeping them?
“Think one of the tractors broke down?” Rosalynn asked from behind her.
>
“I don’t know,” Lily said. Her heart squeezed hard in her chest. She didn’t want to say it, but she was afraid for the men. Someone had it out for the people of Whiskey Gulch Ranch. “If they don’t come home in the next five minutes, we’ll take the truck and go check on them.”
Rosalynn stepped up beside Lily and raised her hand to shade her eyes as she stared out across the pasture. “I’m ready whenever you are. I’ve already lost one member of my family. I don’t want to lose another.”
“You’re not going to.” Lily patted Mrs. Travis’s arm. “Trace has all that combat training. He knows how to take care of himself and others. He’s fine.”
“I hope so.”
“He is.”
A tractor appeared on the horizon, a dark shape growing larger as it moved closer, stirring up dust as it rolled across the land. That was one.
Lily held her breath until the other tractor appeared behind it. “There they are.”
“Good,” Rosalynn said. “I’ll put the dinner rolls in the oven.” The older woman turned and entered the house.
Lily remained on the porch until the tractors got closer. Then she hurried out to the gate.
As they neared, she noticed the tractor in the rear of the procession had the four-wheeler following too close to be safe. Only it didn’t have a rider.
Lily frowned and shaded her eyes. Someone stood behind the driver of the second tractor, holding onto the back of his seat. The second tractor didn’t have the mower behind it. Instead, a heavy-duty strap was attached to the rear of the farm machinery and the front of the mangled four-wheeler.
Matt drove the first tractor through the gate. Trace, with Irish perched behind him, entered with the other.
